Who I am
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Harry starts a journal. Harrys POV


**_This is a little but different from my usual fluff and was inspired by the song below. I hope you enjoy reading it._**

**_Thanks Em._**

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**Iris - Goo Goo Dolls.**

And I'd give up forever to touch you,

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow.

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,

And I don't want to go home right now.

And all I can taste is this moment,

And all I can breathe is your life.

'Cause sooner or later it's over,

I just don't want to miss you tonight.

And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,

Or the moment of truth in your lies.

When everything feels like the movies,

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.

And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am.

I just want you to know who I am,

I just want you to know who I am,

I just want you to know who I am.

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I've never before felt the urge to write my thoughts and feelings down, never been one to understand why people feel the need to pour out their innermost thoughts into a diary. It just isn't me. Plus, it would make some people I know very nervous if they thought I was writing things I shouldn't. So why am I doing it? The simple answer is because I need to. I need the chance to tell my story, to explain the things that I might never be able to say in person. I heard a song once, it seems like it was a lifetime ago, now, and it instantly made me think of her. Of her swirling grey blue eyes and her beautiful face, the way she could look at me and see the man beneath the hidden exterior. I haven't heard the song since, I don't even know who it is by or the title, but for the past week one line from it has haunted me. I am telling you this because it is the resonating thought in my head that has made me put pen to paper. I just want you to know who I am.

There is so much that I want to say - _need_ to say - that I don't even know where to begin. I suppose the logical thing to do would be to tell you how it all started. In all honesty, the day started out much the same as any other, some bad news and an early morning meeting with my team. I've forgotten to mention something important; I work for the British Government. The Security Services, to be exact. In short, I'm a spy. I have been one for most of my adult life and I'm good at it. That's not me being big-headed – just honest. I'm the head of the counter–terrorism unit for MI5 and on that particular day it had been something of a bad time. The meeting was already underway when she quite literally stumbled into my life. I can remember it as if it was yesterday, the way nervous excitement seemed to radiate from her as she struggled to keep hold of the files she was carrying. She smiled at me and I was floored. I think the rest of the team thought I'd lost it as I laughed at my own weak joke, but that smile of hers was the start of something and, no matter how hard I tried to deny it, in the following weeks and months, I was attracted to her.

You can probably guess from the way this narrative started that this isn't a simple love story. Nothing about it was easy. For a start, I was her boss. That in itself is complication enough. They say the course of true love never runs smooth and I have to say that I agree. I kept my distance from her initially, using professionalism as an excuse. In truth, I kept her at arms length because I didn't trust myself not to get attached to her yet, somehow, she managed to get under my defences and, before I knew it, she was a constant thought in my head. I trusted her implicitly, she was there through the betrayal of another I had trusted and it was thoughts of her that filtered through my mind when I thought I was going to die. It was her perfect face and shy smile I pictured as I lay in my hospital bed recovering from a gunshot wound and it was she that quietly admonished me for stubbornly refusing to take time to heal.

Time moved on and as it did my feelings for her grew, there were hints of her feeling the same way towards me, although neither of us dared to broach the subject. Too many obstacles in the way: the job mainly, but there were other things. I think, somewhere along the line, we both silently agreed not to mention it, to just leave things how they were, but the tension between us continued to grow. I found myself inordinately pleased when it reached the end of the day and we were the only ones left on The Grid. During those stolen hours I could watch her from my office, safe in the knowledge that no-one was there to catch me. Apart from her. It was like a game, I would sit and watch her work, her face partially lit from the glow of her computer screen. More than once she caught me looking and I would look away, only to find, moments later, that she was watching me. And so it continued, small touches and shared glances and all the while our professional relationship grew stronger and stronger.

In the end, it took an attempted coup and some not so subtle meddling from an old friend for me to do anything about my feelings. If other people could see there was something more to us than the professional status, I decided it was time to do something about it. I can't remember ever being that nervous about asking someone out to dinner…I think I managed to surprise her with my invitation and I enjoyed watching her flounder her way through the conversation. I have to say that I wasn't much better but she said 'yes', and in the end that's all that mattered. After three years of waiting, it should have been the start of something wonderful and exciting, but idle chit chat and office gossip conspired against us and, being the fiercely private person she was, it was too much for her to bear. She called it off and it hurt to know that she was avoiding a chance for happiness for us both but I still held out hope of her changing her mind. I wanted the chance to tell her and show her how deeply she was loved and, although I got my chance in the end, I didn't know it would be followed by so much heartbreak.

On a cold November morning, she needed me. She had witnessed the death of another and was understandably upset and shaken from the experience. I'm ashamed to admit it but the thought of her needing me gave me hope. To go into all the details would be extremely dangerous, so you'll have to forgive me for the edited version. Suffice to say that the death of the man that morning was not an ordinary suicide, and it was the beginning of the end for Ruth Evershed. Her crime? To have fallen for a man with powerful and unscrupulous enemies. They used her to get to me but it didn't quite work out how they had planned. She had a talent for getting hold of information that she shouldn't. She also had a thirst for solving a puzzle and relentlessly pursuing something until the end. I should have known she wouldn't let it drop. She was also amazingly stubborn, just like a mule; although that was perhaps not the smartest of things to compare her to. Somewhere in the midst of her refusal to let the whole thing drop and accept that she had witnessed nothing more than a tragedy, I managed to at least get her to agree to go home for a few hours to rest. She was reluctant at first but, since I wasn't taking no for an answer and she did technically have to do as I said, she relented and allowed me to take her home. She was silent for the most part and although this was not unusual for us, as we often lapsed into comfortable silences around each other, I sensed she was troubled. As I pulled up outside her house, she surprised me and invited me inside. I almost said no, thinking she needed time to rest, but the look in her eyes haunted me. She looked so broken, so fragile and I knew in that moment that she didn't want to be alone. I reasoned that if my being there could offer her some small comfort, then it was the least I could do, but I think I knew what would happen, despite my mental assertions that I was doing this as a friend.

I didn't question her as she walked upstairs and asked me to follow, nor when she lay down on top of the bed fully clothed. I joined her, then, and for the first time, I held her in my arms. I held her close as she wept, feeling the damp of her tears seep through the material of my shirt and onto my chest. I lowered my head and kissed across her forehead, softly, whispering words of nonsensical comfort as I did so. When her eyes met mine, I knew what she was thinking, even before the breathless question tumbled from her lips. I hated myself for taking advantage of her but I was too weak to say no. Instead, I allowed her to kiss me and before long was lost to the sensations of being with her so completely. In the aftermath, she whispered her love for me and I had never felt happiness like it before. I assured her I felt the same way and we spent a few carefree hours together, revelling in the new found happiness that we had created.

Reality inevitably disturbed us and, as I was called into an emergency meeting, I left her cocooned in the covers looking far more inviting than anywhere I had to go. Alas my sense of duty took charge and, after a lingering goodbye, I hurried to work to find out what the latest problem was. As I have already mentioned, Ruth wasn't one to let a hunch go in a hurry and, as I fought my way through the city traffic towards one side of London, she was battling through it to the other side. Unbeknown to either of us, she was being monitored by someone else who went over my head and reported what she had seen to a man who pretended to be an ally when really he was an orchestrator of the plan from the start. Ruth was arrested for murder and, although I tried to assure her I would sort things out, she knew even then that there would be no happy ending for us.

I tried, I really did. I offered myself in her place and spent a night in the cells as she and our trusted team raced around the city looking for the clues that would prove her – and, by now, my - innocence. They had been clever though, and the only way to end this was to sacrifice one of us to the wolves. She, of course, made the decision it was to be her. I would never have allowed it but, sat in a jail cell, I wasn't able to stop her from setting the wheels in motion. They falsified some evidence and Ruth made the ultimate sacrifice and gave her life up for mine. She managed to take some of the rot with her, but Ruth Evershed had to die. I can only imagine how terrifying it all was for her, the end of life as she had known it and all because she believed in me and my ability to serve this country.

It was only natural that I should be the one to identify her body, and, as some shadowy members of the Service licked their wounds, I went to meet someone at the docks. I suppose she wasn't Ruth Evershed anymore, but there was no mistaking the haunting beauty of the woman I loved as she stood there and tried to look mad that I had turned up. Our goodbye is something that I can't think about without getting emotional. There was so much to say and I desperately wanted to make her stay, but knew she couldn't. If the people we thwarted knew she had faked her death they would have set about doing the job properly and that is a thought that I can not abide. Better to be without her and for her to live than anything else. As the bitter wind whipped her hair around her face, I promised her that I would find a way for us to be together, no matter how long it took. I told her that I'd never forget her and that I would love her until my dying day. She made me promise to look after her cats, kissed me briefly but passionately and then she was gone, leaving me alone on the docks as she sailed away to a new beginning.

There wasn't a day that passed without me thinking of her, and of trying to find a way to her. With people watching my every move, I wasn't able to even communicate with her for the first three months. Eventually, though, I found a way and we agreed to a rendezvous. I am unable to describe the feeling of seeing her again after so many months of longing, but nothing prepared me for what I was about to discover. She must have seen the shock on my face and hastily told me that she was pregnant with my child. I wept unashamedly as I held her, part out of relief that she was once more in my arms and part out of the despair of knowing that I would not be able to be with her and my child for some time.

The four days we spent together passed in a blur of happiness as she encouraged me to not feel guilty for not being able to be with her. I renewed my vow to find a way to end all of it, more determined than ever to find a way to join my family safely.

I have a plan and have gradually started to put the wheels in motion. It has to be flawless and for that to happen I know it's going to take time. Time that I wish I could be spending with the incredibly brave and courageous woman carrying my child. I don't know how much of your life I will miss, but I do know that it is too much. For now, I just want you to know who I am and that I love you and your mother without reservation. My name is Harry Pearce and I'm your Dad.

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**_A review would be lovely. I have a vague idea for a sequel so let me know if you think I should write it or not. x_**


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